Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
He’s convinced I need to be seen in public. To make sure the tail James has on me sees me keeping my distance, moving on. He wants them to back off and that means I need to look like I’m backing off too. No more of this tit for tat. The plan is to let them think I’ve moved on from looking into James. That I’ve given up or simply decided it wasn’t worth it. It doesn’t matter which.
I stare down the aisle as a kid runs past, holding up a plane in the air and making swooshing noises. It’s crazy that one day, I’m going to have one of them. A kid. A baby first. And before that, a pregnant wife.
It’s fucking terrifying.
This particular setting isn’t what he had in mind and I made sure no one followed me here. Family first, though, and then I’ll take care of the mess. Bars and old hangouts. Then back to the apartment every night before I sneak out to go home. She’s a saint for putting up with me and all of this.
“Hey,” I call out as a young guy in a blue Kiddie Korner T-shirt walks by with a clipboard in his hand. He has to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose when he looks at me. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yeah, I was looking for simple baby things. Like bottles and tiny clothes. Things like that,” I tell him. “I can’t find them anywhere in here.”
“We don’t have infant merchandise. You’ll have to go to Little Treasures,” he responds and starts walking to the center of the store to point. “Two blocks down and make a right. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s right there on your left.”
“Thanks.”
I rub my tired eyes and walk out of the shop, hearing the ding of bells above my head and I’m instantly accosted by the bitter cold.
Just as I’m shoving my hands into my pockets, I catch sight of Detective Bradshaw.
“It’s one of those days,” I mutter under my breath as he kicks off the wall. Guess the prick was waiting for me.
“Mr. Thompson,” he says, greeting me without a hint of emotion as he closes the distance between us.
I take a few steps forward as a couple of kids run behind me and into the store. Meeting him halfway, I answer him, “Detective Bradshaw, nice to see you again.” Not fucking really.
He huffs a laugh like he heard my thought and says, “I’m glad I found you here.”
“A bit odd that we just happened to run into each other.” Holding his gaze, I let him know that I know he must’ve been following me. “Not my usual hangout.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Your schedule’s a bit different now?”
“A bit.”
“For the best, I hope?” he asks and a prickle runs down my neck. I don’t like it.
“Yeah,” I answer, and my word comes out hard. My back’s stiff and my muscles are wound tight. “You taking me in?”
I wait as he assesses me, enjoying the suspense.
“Should I?”
“I can’t think of any reason off the top of my head.” He doesn’t think my answer’s funny in the least. My lips quirk up into a smirk at his hard-assed expression. “I’m good to go then?”
“You got any new information for me?” he asks, getting to the point of this meeting.
“I got nothing to say.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Protecting someone who wants to issue harassment charges?” he asks me, and I can’t help that my forehead creases with both confusion and anger.
“Oh,” Detective Bradshaw says, finally showing a little joy. “You didn’t hear?” He rocks on his feet like he’s happy to deliver the news. “James Lapour wants us to keep you away from him. He filed for a restraining order and all.”
“That’s why you’re here?” I ask, not sure what to make of James’s move. He went to the cops and maybe I grew up different, but that’s something you just don’t do when you’re neck-deep in criminal shit.
“He said you were snooping around, making him uncomfortable and issuing threats.”
“Threats?” I echo, getting more pissed off by the second.
“Nothing solid we could work with, so I thought I’d give you a shadow.”
“Ah, and thus this wonderful meeting.” I don’t talk to cops. Never have, never will. Half the city’s cops are in someone’s back pocket. Someone’s like Mason and James; the rich someone’s. Not someone’s like me and the kids I grew up with.
“I’m sorry to say I couldn’t really give two shits about James Lapour so if you want me to stay away, I’m happy to keep my distance.”
Detective Bradshaw’s less than pleased with my statement. “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Thanks, Detective, am I good to go now?”
“Have a good day,” he mutters as he walks past me, brushing my shoulder as he goes.